I love sharing a wilderness experience with someone new. For some, especially the young or people whose idea of wild places is Central Park, it takes a little time to appreciate. Being truly alone, or with two or three others, miles away from civilization is uncomfortable for many. Looking up to find a Grizzly Bear on the same sandbar you’re having lunch on gets your attention. Watching a seal raise its head and shake a salmon apart so that it can have breakfast is not an urban experience.
My grandson caught his first salmon at three years old. It was great until he watched us filet it for dinner. Over the next few years, he has taken great pride in being an amazingly knowledgeable geek. Being an outdoors person was not on his list of needed descriptions.
That is until this year. Now thirteen years old, his father and I were able to spend a few days with him at our fly-in log cabin on Lake Iliamna in Alaska. Most of our equipment is older, the kind that you can work on without a computer. He pitched in on repairs and improvements. Bears, which used to bring the hair up on the back of his neck, now brought thoughtful discussions and smiles. Hauling water from the cistern or a spring fed stream were a delight where before it was just work.
Our time out in an open boat on a lake about the same size as the state of Rhode Island, used to be scary. On our third day out, we took him on a planned three-hour fishing trip on the lake, which stretched to almost six as we worked to find comfortable places to fish as the wind raised white caps around us. At the end, he pitched in fileting the few sockeye salmon we kept, and kept his hollow leg appetite at bay until we finally plopped a fish he caught on the grill at eleven that night. Dinner on the screened porch overlooking the river under the midnight sun was a highlight for all three of us.
Perhaps it was the constraints coming from the COVID experience, cooped up at home, learning online, isolated from friends, but he struggled over the last couple of years. When I was his age, my relief from life’s stresses was always the outdoors. There is no substitute for having friends around you. But for some, spending time alone in nature helps us sort out what is important and what is real. I’m proud and happy that my grandson seems to be discovering that same remedy to life’s challenges.
You never know whether a conversation with a young teen connects or not. But I think he got it when we discussed the ever-increasing intensity of society. The cabin is held in trust. I set that up years ago when I realized that in the future, THERE MAY BE NOTHING MORE VALUABLE IN THE WORLD, THAN THE ABILITY TO BE ALONE.
He heard that and smiled before tipping his head back and closing his eyes for a few minutes. I think that, even with his father and I only feet away, he was ALONE AND HAPPY.